


Are You There Floor? It's Me, Simon

by BasicBathsheba



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: M/M, Simon meets his true love: the floor, Top notch banter, baz is a lightweight, drunk lads, enemies to floor buds, school hijinx, suspicious mage, watford era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-08 00:39:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14682834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BasicBathsheba/pseuds/BasicBathsheba
Summary: “Why is Basilton vomiting in the bathroom?” the Mage asks. I can’t tell if he’s smiling or frowning. His entire face looks wrong. His mustache is throwing me off. It’s like an upside down mouth. I can’t tell which one is curved up and which one is curved down.“Uh,” I say. “He got poisoned.”The Mage’s eyebrow goes up.“And you?”“I got poisoned too,” I say, because now that I’ve started lying, I can’t stop. “We poisoned each other.”





	Are You There Floor? It's Me, Simon

**Author's Note:**

> A short little fic I wrote for a Tumblr request: "can you write a fic of drunk!simon and baz trying to sneak into their room in the middle of the night prompting a vist from a highly suspicious mage. (Watford times)"
> 
> On Tumblr here ---> https://bit.ly/2IqFEPm

**BAZ**

“How much do you  _weigh?_ ” I snap, panting. “You need to cut back on the scones.”

Snow is leaning heavily against me, his legs practically dragging as we try to make our way across the lawn. 

“Hey Baz?” he says, his voice too loud. “Something’s wrong, I can’t…I can’t move my legs.” His voice goes even higher and louder in panic. “Someone spelled me. I can’t walk. Did you do this? What did you do?” 

He’s pushing me away, and I let him. He stumbles and falls on his arse and blinks up at me, betrayed. I’m trying not to laugh.

“No one spelled you, you absolute idiot,” I snap. “You’re pissed.”

“But my legs…” he says, trailing off, his mouth hanging open. I bend down to help him up, but my legs wobble a bit with the effort, and I land back on the ground next to him. I try to make it look natural.

“We have to get back to the room without being caught,” I whisper to him. He flinches away from me and wipes at his face in disgust and confusion. I think I accidentally spat on him when I spoke.

“Right. Right. You’re sneaky, you lead the way. Do the creeping thing,” he says.

“Creeping thing?”

“Yeah, you know, the thing where you creep.”

I must be more drunk that I thought, because I let that go, and pull myself to my feet. I hold out a hand which he takes unsteadily, and we’re both up and relatively secure. I don’t know how I manage to stay on the ground; I feel like I’m about to float away.

Snow puts a hand on my arm and looks at me like he’s going to say something serious. And then we creep. 

Snow keeps giggling every few metres, and I keep having to turn around to shush him, but it’s not working. He has a huge, lopsided grin on his face.

“It’s like we’re in  _Scooby Doo_ ,” he shout whispers. 

“Come along, Shaggy,” I say, feeling extremely pleased with myself.

**SIMON**

Baz is standing in front of the door of Mummers House, blinking. 

“Do you think we could climb? Or maybe fly up there? You probably left the window open,” he says. I scrunch up my face and stare at him. I’m willing to believe I’m a little pissed, but I’m not far enough gone that it’s messing up my comprehension, I don’t think.

Honestly, I shouldn’t have drunk so much. No one else drank as much as I did — well, except for Baz, but he’s so fucking cool and in control, he probably can’t even get drunk. Penny drank a lot, but she stopped. I didn’t. I kept going.

It wasn’t my fault at first. I’m shit at sports, but I thought beer pong would be different. It wasn’t. And then we played quarters, and it turns out that Dev and Niall are really fucking good, and Baz and I aren’t. I don’t even know why they all came. Probably just to show off their drinking skills.

But then Baz kept drinking, and it felt like a challenge, so I kept drinking, and then the two of us were doing shots, and then sometime between when I dared him to do a hand stand and when he actually did it, the other kids heard a teacher in the hallway and left, and then after Baz fell and kicked me in the face we looked around and realised we were alone.

Everyone just ditched us and left us to find our way back ourselves. Even Penny. I don’t know if I’m ever going to get over this betrayal. 

There’s a grunt next to me and it looks like Baz is trying to jump over the moat on the far side of Mummers House, and onto the wall. He falls back down and a wild hyena laugh escapes me. 

“What are you doing?”

He’s trying to kill me with his glare, but his eyes are so pinched together that it really ruins the general spookiness. Also, he looks a mess. I’ve never noticed before that he’s rather gangly.

“Trying to find a way into our room,” he snaps. I think he’s embarrassed that he fell, and he’s trying to look composed and regal from the ground. He just looks like a priss. “Do you care to help?”

“We could use the door,” I say, pointing at the front door of Mummers House.

Baz stares for a moment, then nods slowly.

“Yes. Yes, that could work.”

**BAZ**

I think Simon stubbed his foot on every single stair on the way up. 

“Could you be any louder?” I hiss, and he looks at me, a mask of pain and betrayal on his face.

“It hurts, Baz,” he whines. “Why are they all so close together? When did that happen?”

He’s a stupid drunk. Even more stupid than usual.

Halfway up he remembers that apparently his legs don’t work, and he leans heavily on me. I’m actually sweating from the exertion, and I made an effort to slam his shoulder into every doorway and wall we pass, before we finally reach out room. I open the door and throw him onto the ground in a heap, then step around him carefully and kick the door closed.

“If you’ll excuse me,” I say as politely as I can to the Simon-shaped lump on the floor, “I think I need to go be sick.”

He doesn’t respond, just turns his face sideways and grunts.

**SIMON**

I think I love this floor. It’s become a very steadying presence in my life. And it’s shockingly comfortable. It makes me feel grounded. 

I don’t think I’m as pissed as I thought I was, or at least not as pissed as Baz, because I can hear him puking in the bathroom. He didn’t even close the door.

I’m not puking though. Which means I win. I fucking win.

There’s a knock on the door, and I grunt. Baz doesn’t seem to hear it, and he keeps heaving. 

The knock comes again.

“Shove off!” I shout, not abandoning this precious spot of floor. I don’t know if I’ll ever get up. I think I’d happily die here.

From behind me I hear the door open slowly, and I distantly wonder who the hell is coming to visit us, but then there’s silence, and I kind of forget that anyone is there. From the bathroom, Baz vomits again, and I can hear his sputtering breaths and him mumbling “I’m a Pitch, this doesn’t happen.”

But then someone very close to me clears their throat, and my eyes fall on a pair of worn leather boots standing a few inches from my face.

Oh, fuck.

“Simon,” The Mage says. He’s looking down at me, a confused expression on his face. He smiles tightly. “Simon, were you just in the main building?”

“No,”I say. From the ground. I’ve never lied to the Mage before, but this feels important. His smile slips. 

“Simon,” he says again in what I think is supposed to be a warning voice. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” I say. Baz vomits again from the bathroom and I hear him mumble  _“Merlin’s fucking shit-stained beard.”_

“Then why is Basilton vomiting in the bathroom?” he asks. I can’t tell if he’s smiling or frowning. His entire face looks wrong. His mustache is throwing me off. It’s like an upside down mouth. I can’t tell which one is curved up and which one is curved down. 

“Uh,” I say. “He got poisoned.”

The Mage’s eyebrow goes up. 

“And you?”

“I got poisoned too,” I say, because now that I’ve started lying, I can’t stop. “We poisoned each other.”

“Do you need medical assistance?” 

“Uh,” I say. Baz coughs from the bathroom and out of the corner of my eye I see him appear in the doorway. He takes one look at the Mage and immediately starts backing up, like if he goes slowly he won’t be seen.

“No. We’re fine, thank you. We’re good. Aces,” I say. I push myself up off the floor and stand up, carefully. I’m clutching at the wall for support, but maybe if I hold it at an angle I’ll look like I’m just casually leaning on it, all cool and collected and sober-like. I think the Mage is buying it. I must be an incredible actor. 

“Since you’re fine, help Basilton get off the floor of your bathroom and cleaned up,” he says. I nod.

“Yes sir.”

He’s looking at me expectantly and I realise he means now.

I take a step unsteadily, and try to act natural. Not bad. I can do this. I take another step. Too long. Way too long. I do another. I look like I’m walking on a tightrope. But I think I’m fooling him. He hasn’t said anything.

When I get to the door of the bathroom, I cling to the frame, and turn back to face the Mage. His arms are crossed and his eyebrows are furrowed.

“After you take care of Basilton, get some sleep, Simon,” he says. “You both have kitchen duty tomorrow morning. And every morning for the rest of this week.”

I nod. Really, it could be worse. I mean, it is kind of bad. Kitchen duty is awful, and you have to wear a hairnet, and I hate having my duty overlap with Baz’s, because he’s a complete nightmare. But all I want right now is for the Mage to leave so I can fall down again. I miss the floor. It’s been good to me. 

The Mage looks like he’s going to say something else, but instead he just shakes his head and leaves the room. I slide down along for door jamb and reunite with the floor at last. Baz peeks his head around the corner, surveys the room, then strolls unsteadily out, looking for all the world like he wasn’t just upchucking. 

He doesn’t make it far before he stumbles, hits the floor, and lays in a lump next to me.

There’s silence for a long moment.

“I’ve decided to sleep on the floor tonight,” he announces. I nod. Me too.

“Right,” I say instead.

“I can get to my bed,” he argues, even though I didn’t say anything. “I just don’t fancy having you vomit and choke on your own bile. I want to kill you myself, not have you go out via alcohol poisoning.”

“Right,” I say.

“And also it’s good for my back. The bed is too soft. But I can stand.”

“Right.”

“I think I’ve the flu. I want to be close to the toilet.”

“Baz, stop talking,” I say finally, unsticking my cheek from the floor and turning to look at him. He has his head resting on his rucksack, one arm thrown over his eyes. “I can smell your breath from here.”

“That’s not possible. And if it is, you’re welcome.”

“You reek,” I say. “You’re worse than a flaming pile of shit.”

“Oh please, I’m a delight,” he says, waving his hand in the air lazily.

“You smell of sick,” I say again. “Just go to sleep.”

“What if I want to talk?” he says. “Isn’t that what they do at sleep overs? Talk and share secrets?”

“It’s not a sleep over if you share a room,” I grunt, turning myself onto my stomach so I can crawl slowly toward my desk, where there’s a bottle of water. I have to crawl past Baz though. I go to try to army crawl around him, but his hand is still flying in the air, and it hits me in the face. I fall back down with a grunt, my face landing inches from Baz’s rucksack.

“Move over,” I grunt, trying to headbutt him out of the way so I can put my head there. We’re lying in opposite directions, my feet facing the door, his facing the bathroom. I think I’m going to have to stay here.

“I hate you,” he says suddenly, and I nod.

“Thanks for the reminder.”

“Just wanted to make sure you didn’t forget. I hate you and I’ll kill you someday.”

“Alright,” I grunt. Speaking feels hard. Breathing feels hard. “Well, let’s do that tomorrow. I can’t stand right now.”

“No,” Baz says. “Me neither.”

“Tomorrow then? Fight to the death?” 

Baz hums and I hear him shift a bit. His hair hits me in the nose and I scrunch up my face. He smells like booze, but also cedar. And like tea. I love tea. He sighs and nods.

“Tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, be sure to check out my other, longer fics. For more drunk lads, check out This Must Be The Place


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